Nothing but a pile of ShamPoo
(Quick Rant, I promise)
Many a thing has puzzled mankind since the beginning of time.
"What do you mean you have a Headache?" Asked Adam to Eve.
"Where the hell is India then?" Pondered Christopher Columbus.
"Who the fuck are you and why are you wanking yourself?" Exclaimed the angry man when he found me spying on his wife.
But the thing that puzzles and annoys me is why do women need so many brands of Shampoo? Not only do they have multiple brands but they have separate bottles for different parts of their head. It’s just total madness. The reason I bring this up maybe be because I don’t give a fuck about my hair, or perhaps because I live ina house with 4 girls that do, or that I just don't have anything better to write about. Who knows? But I can't leave it unsaid.
Now I’m going to create a nice mental image for you. Picture me in the shower (Not like that, you dirty fecker) enjoying the streams of hot water that is descending and lathering up my body more and more with each minute that passes. Now I decide it's time to give the aul' noggin' a scrubbin'. So I turn to the shelf adjacent to me with the intention of picking up the bottle branded "SHAMPOO" and using it to the full extend of its power. But no. Instead I am faced with a barrage of Bottles. The majority of them labelled in French because if it ain't French it ain't Shampoo my friend. That I know. So I go on my tip-toes to see over the sea of bottles in front of me. I pick a few off the shelf. "Le Shampoo teh excellente - pour blondes", "Je Suis Shampoo - pour Bruns femme". None of them any good for me. In a panic I pick up a random bottle and try to use it, but as I open the lid the bottle starts screaming at me "YOU ARN'T A VIBRANT REDHEAD, CAN'T USE ME I'M AFRAID". Crestfallen, I return it amongst its peers.
Several minutes pass. Using various bath toys (such as the standard rubber duck to oddly shaped sponges) I try to devise a mathematical equation to help solve the problem, but without dear old David Kennedy to accompany me in the shower I am useless. He is the Robin to my Batman. So the war battles on. I pick up bottle after bottle but am forced to return them due to incompatibility. Eventually I find one that I think could be suitable. ("J'habitte Bathroom - pour hair"). I flip it around and look for the directions:
So, back on the shelf with that one then. I was willing to admit defeat and leave the shower, but that's when I saw it. At the back of the shelf. Shunted to the corner as if bullied by the rest. A white bottle with "SHAMPOO" wrote across it's belly in black block letters. Halleluiah! So I use it with a grin on my face. I had won the fight.
Well, all I can say is thank god for Lidl. *salutes* I will never diss Shit Cheap Shite again.
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Many a thing has puzzled mankind since the beginning of time.
"What do you mean you have a Headache?" Asked Adam to Eve.
"Where the hell is India then?" Pondered Christopher Columbus.
"Who the fuck are you and why are you wanking yourself?" Exclaimed the angry man when he found me spying on his wife.
But the thing that puzzles and annoys me is why do women need so many brands of Shampoo? Not only do they have multiple brands but they have separate bottles for different parts of their head. It’s just total madness. The reason I bring this up maybe be because I don’t give a fuck about my hair, or perhaps because I live ina house with 4 girls that do, or that I just don't have anything better to write about. Who knows? But I can't leave it unsaid.
Now I’m going to create a nice mental image for you. Picture me in the shower (Not like that, you dirty fecker) enjoying the streams of hot water that is descending and lathering up my body more and more with each minute that passes. Now I decide it's time to give the aul' noggin' a scrubbin'. So I turn to the shelf adjacent to me with the intention of picking up the bottle branded "SHAMPOO" and using it to the full extend of its power. But no. Instead I am faced with a barrage of Bottles. The majority of them labelled in French because if it ain't French it ain't Shampoo my friend. That I know. So I go on my tip-toes to see over the sea of bottles in front of me. I pick a few off the shelf. "Le Shampoo teh excellente - pour blondes", "Je Suis Shampoo - pour Bruns femme". None of them any good for me. In a panic I pick up a random bottle and try to use it, but as I open the lid the bottle starts screaming at me "YOU ARN'T A VIBRANT REDHEAD, CAN'T USE ME I'M AFRAID". Crestfallen, I return it amongst its peers.
Several minutes pass. Using various bath toys (such as the standard rubber duck to oddly shaped sponges) I try to devise a mathematical equation to help solve the problem, but without dear old David Kennedy to accompany me in the shower I am useless. He is the Robin to my Batman. So the war battles on. I pick up bottle after bottle but am forced to return them due to incompatibility. Eventually I find one that I think could be suitable. ("J'habitte Bathroom - pour hair"). I flip it around and look for the directions:
Apply Shampoo to your head. Rub it into the scalp using a circular motion. Leave the bathroom and go to Africa. Venture through tribe after tribe bringing Christianity as you pass. Find a four leaf clover. Play Mother Teresa in a Broadway musical. Then gently rinse shampoo from head using the circular motion as mentioned before.
So, back on the shelf with that one then. I was willing to admit defeat and leave the shower, but that's when I saw it. At the back of the shelf. Shunted to the corner as if bullied by the rest. A white bottle with "SHAMPOO" wrote across it's belly in black block letters. Halleluiah! So I use it with a grin on my face. I had won the fight.
Well, all I can say is thank god for Lidl. *salutes* I will never diss Shit Cheap Shite again.
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